Mary Tired

Through the starred Judean nightShe went, in travail of the Light,With the earliest hush she sawGod beside her in the straw.

One poor taper glimmered clear,Drowsing Joseph nodded near,All the glooms were rosed with wings.She that knew the Spirit's kissWearied of the bright abyss.She was tired of heavenly things.There between the day and nightThese she counted for delight:

Baby kids that butted hardIn the shadowy stable yard; Silken doves that dipped and preenedWhere the crumbling well-curb greened; Sparrows in the vine, and smallSapphired flies upon the wall,So lovely they seemed musical.

In the roof a swift had built.All the new-born airs were spiltOut of cups the morning madeOf a glory and a shade.These her solemn eyelids feltWhile unseen the seraphs knelt.Then a young mouse, sleek and bold,Rustling in the winnowed gold,To her shadow crept, and curledNear the Ransom of the World.